


I Am Just A Disease, The Worst Is Yet To Come.

by Glitchinthedark



Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, Drugs, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Relapse, Self-Harm, Sobriety, Whump, tua - Freeform, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitchinthedark/pseuds/Glitchinthedark
Summary: There are a million ways to disappear, yet he could never seem to find the right one.Klaus falls back into drugs after a brief attempt at sobriety
Series: THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY WHUMPTOBER 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949950
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I Am Just A Disease, The Worst Is Yet To Come.

Sobriety was a fucking bitch and Klaus was no stranger to that realisation. The cold sweats, shakes, head so sensitive even the slightest noise could send electrifying pain behind the eyes. That was just the physical manifestations: words struggle to encapsulate the mental torture that comes hand in hand with withdrawal. If the ghosts didn’t scream it enough, the brain only echoed it. Sometimes it seemed amongst the screams of tortured souls, words of disappointed judgement followed through. Its not like the disappointment, the words of pure hatred weren’t already ingrained in his own perception of himself, the voices just helped ingrain it further. The mind runs delirious without its fleeting highs, always on the run attempting another failed escape, another nightmare.

Managing to scrounge a collection of crumpled notes off his ‘friends’, mixed with the regrettable favours he collected, he ran back to the only cell he knew would bring peace. Klaus was no stranger to the dealers among the streets and always had his regular favourites: the ones that didn’t ask questions and just gave him his fix without any hesitation. Everyone who tried to help in the past he would just push away until they left. His newfound ‘friends’ had told him to come back when he was high, when he would lighten up and stop putting a dampener on their lives. Nobody wanted to deal with him through sobriety, why would they? He seemed to be nothing to anyone unless he was at his lowest. No matter what he tried, nobody would understand. Hell only knows why he believed sobriety would work this time. Perhaps Ben’s words got into his head again, he knew it would hurt him to watch him fall into the spiral again, but he didn’t care. 

The backstreets of the city were a maze at the best of times, a maze Klaus had found himself in many times prior. Shadows cast upon walls lit by the slow dying fluorescents of the backstreet nightclubs, the occasional flashes of light from the car headlights passing by, hinting a fleeting glimpse of hope, of something different to the dead end of the alleyways. This was the kind of setting that would set alarm bells off to any reasonable person. Littered with the sands of broken glass and strewn with the lipstick stained cigarette butts, sometimes still smouldering enough to send small flakes of ash floating hopelessly across the walls. A place where the broken becomes discarded and left to fade away. 

Slouching down behind the wall of the alley, he looked down at the bag of pills between his fingers. Once again everyone had ditched him as soon as the withdrawal kicked in. Left as soon as the screaming agony of the ghosts returned, sending shivers down him, rippling off the chills his desperate body produced through the day. All he needed was somebody to reach out, help him cut through the strings the ghosts used to hold him up. Instead, he found himself lost, swallowing a handful of pills before finding a wasted cigarette next to him. 

Klaus lit the half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, letting the flame brush a little too close to delicate skin, leaving red streaks across his fingertips, not even flinching from the heat. It was nice to feel something different. Eyes glazing over, he traced over the scarlet skin as he dropped the lighter into his lap, tipping his head back to the wall as he exhaled the dry smoke into the cold night circling him. Just a few minutes until everything would melt away into a careless fleeting dream. Sobriety was a forced torture, so what was the point when nobody was there to listen or even care? Numbness was a beauty, a freedom.

All it took was a few pills, few drinks, concoctions of pure bliss to end it all. Not that it ever did no matter what he tried. It’s okay though, when they find him, if they find him, they will just brush it off as his normal ‘selfish junkie behaviour.’ He knew full well it was selfish, but who would care? He never did. People were always so wrapped up in their own heads they never realised there is something under his skin, something more than a perceived carefree spirit to the wind. There was a soul, a person, something screaming under the façade. A person who with every hit slowly spiralled deeper into his own abyss. An abyss that became illuminated with light as the drugs hit his system, sparking a warmth among his body, numbing the burning flames etched into his skin. 

There are a million ways to disappear, yet he could never seem to find the right one.

**Author's Note:**

> So while I slept through the entirity of yesterday evening, I decided to get off my arse and write todays fic!
> 
> Fic title quote:
> 
> Sleeptalk - Dayseeker


End file.
